DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stephanie McMahon, Kurt Angle, and various other WWE characters that appear in the subsequent story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE. Vince, please don't sue me, I have a baby nephew that needs a cool aunt like myself to teach him how to be a smartass.
Façade
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Can you please tell me where Shane McMahon's office is?" I asked a lollygagging crew member as I entered the arena. Startled, the young man jumped up from his folding chair and, nodding furiously, began walking down the corridor to the left.
*Whatever happened to giving directions?* I thought with a sigh as I wearily followed the retreating man. It was the day I had been dreading: Monday. I was in Baton Rouge, upon the request of my brother, even though I had pleaded with him to let me stay in Connecticut and video conference any meetings he wanted me to attend. But no, he had an impending feud with Stone Cold Steve Austin, and needed my support. And myself? I was dreading a certain blonde Canadian whom I hadn't spoken to since Thursday.
Noticing Shane's nameplate a few feet away, I pushed past the young man, thanking him quickly as I strode towards the distant door. Knocking once, I tried the handle, and finding it unlocked, stormed inside.
Shane looked up from his desk. "At least you bothered to knock," he quipped.
I glared at him, taking a seat on a nearby chair. "You are lucky I even bothered to come," I grumbled, rubbing my left wrist carefully. Although the swelling had nearly disappeared over the weekend, it had puffed up a bit on the plane ride that afternoon. Unfortunately, this required me to wear both the pressure cuff and the sling until the new swelling had deflated. The return of the throbbing pain brought me into PMS mode as soon as I left my hotel room.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, my brother let out a long groan. "Let's start over, ok? My, my, my, baby sis! Don't you look stunning this evening? I am overjoyed that you could come to support me tonight!" He offered me a large grin, and I couldn't suppress a chuckle at his comments. "There now, it's hard to talk to you when you are wearing Mom's angry face."
I frowned slightly at the reference to our mother; she hadn't spoken to me since calling in her congratulations on my new job. Our relationship had never been the same since the day I had slapped her. "Can we please not talk about her and get back on track?" I requested, tamping down the images of her face after I had physically hurt her. The last thing I needed was to feel guilty about something else.
Shane waved a dismissive hand. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to bring it up." He then tossed a file into my lap. "Here are the numbers from last week. As you can see, the number of households watching Raw has increased dramatically since I became co-GM." Quickly perusing through the file, I noted the spike in viewers and nodded in comprehension. "However, my fellow general manager has approached me, saying that our joint presence here is ruining the show. The numbers prove him wrong, but that's not what bothers me…."
As my brother began to rant about Austin, I slipped back into my mind and my previous worries. I hadn't called Jericho back; I feared that he only wanted to talk about my 'illness', and not about the frequency of which our lips were colliding these days. I had spent the entire weekend obsessing about those kisses and their possible meaning. No amount of logic, however, would allow me to dismiss the hopeful thought that Jericho actually cared about me. And that stupid thought fueled my need to see him tonight, regardless of the consequences.
"Shane?" I interrupted, standing up. "I need coffee. Why don't you go and show Austin this data and get some credible ground on him, make him look ignorant." Tossing the file back on his desk, I gave him an encouraging smile and exited his office in search of the snack bar.
As I walked, I passed a mirror and reflexively checked my appearance. I ran a hand through my wig gently, ensuring that all strands were in place. My makeup was perfect, and my dress, a short black number with an asymmetrical hemline and a slash cut-out over the chest, was particularly flattering. I grinned at myself become continuing on; if I didn't have the stupid sling on, I'd look like a million bucks.
Reaching the snack bar, I was mildly disappointed that I hadn't run into Jericho, my entire motive for leaving Shane's office in the first place. As I poured some coffee for myself, I mused that his absence was probably because I was looking out for him. *Figures that he wouldn't be around when I actually expected to see him.* Slowly stirring in some cream and sugar, I checked the hallway hopefully, then sighed when he did not appear. Not wanting to pathetically hang around the doughnut tray, I opted to return to Shane's office, watch the remainder of Raw, and mope about my horrible luck.
"You never called me back," a voice called out just as I stepped away from the table.
I whirled around, carefully masking my face to one of indifference. "I was busy," I lied, hoping he wouldn't call me on it. I had to keep the conversation away from anything medicinal; the last thing I wanted was a cancer confessional next to the coffee pot.
He shook his head slowly, his loose blonde hair brushing against his shoulders. With his hair down and clad only in shiny black tights, he looked absolutely delectable. "Yeah, I know. With Angle."
I nearly dropped the cup of coffee in my hand. "How…" I started to ask, then it all became clear who called Saturday afternoon during my bath. "Oh," was all I could think to say. Inside the butterflies encased in my stomach began to beat on nearby organs. *Maybe he's jealous… dear God let him be jealous!* I inwardly prayed.
"Oh? That's all you can say?" Jericho's eyes narrowed with displeasure, and my heart rate sped up at the reasons behind his anger. "Let me guess, your doofus boyfriend didn't even tell you I called back, did he?"
I shook my head slowly, then laughed at the title he gave Kurt. "He isn't my boyfriend Chris," I corrected, inwardly pleased that he was upset about Kurt's presence in my home. Jericho's eyebrows shot sky high, and I blushed slightly at his insinuating gesture. "We're not fooling around either, pervert. He's my friend."
"Ah, ok," he responded, his angry tone disappearing. With a small grin, he stepped closer and braced his left hand against the wall beside us. He then proceeded to lean directly into my personal space, his face hovering inches away from mine, his eyes full of mischief. I froze, not knowing what to expect, and yet I wanted him to close the distance between us and kiss the hell out of me. "In that case, I think you owe me an apology."
I shivered at the low quality his voice had taken on. That, coupled with his close proximity, was definitely unnerving. Not wanting to be intimidated so easily, I jutted my chin upwards defiantly, bringing our faces that much closer. "And why should I do that?" I retorted, offering a smirk.
His grin widened as he openly enjoyed the game we were playing. I silently rejoiced; as long as he did not quit this teasing, I was free of answering any health-related questions. "Because you knew about the first message, and had no intention of calling me back." His right hand reached up to smooth a piece of hair behind my ear. His knuckles brushed against my jaw softly, and I willingly leaned into it, wanting more contact. "And you called me a pervert, which was uncalled for."
I closed my eyes momentarily as he continued to stroke my cheek, relishing the sensation of his coarse skin. My resolve was dissipating, and for fear that I would lose this teasing game, I gathered my wits about me and made one last ditch effort to retaliate. "Maybe you are right… what sort of apology would you like?" I breathed, nibbling on my lower lip. I watched through my lashes as his eyes darted downwards; as an extra measure I then smoothed the sting of the bite away with my tongue. *Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me* I silently demanded.
His grin faltered somewhat, but to my dismay he did not take the bait. Instead, he copied my move, and I found myself gazing at his lips as he licked them slowly. "I haven't decided. Perhaps you could think of some appropriate action to take…" he trailed off.
I could not tear my eyes from his glistening lower lip; in fact, I seemed to be gravitating towards it. Compelled to reach up and trace the moisture found there, I found that I still clutched my coffee in my right hand, and saw the idea that would ensure my victory. Breaking out of my trance, I met his cocky gaze with one of my own. "I may have a suggestion…" I whispered as I brought my lips just close enough to touch his, then immediately pulled back, taking a sip of my coffee. "But I'll have to get back to you. I have a show to consult for." Winking at his startled face over the brim of my Styrofoam cup, I turned on my heel and retreated to my brother's office. *That'll teach him to mess with me,* I thought jovially. After all, Kurt and I agreed that I shouldn't get involved with Jericho until I was comfortable with telling him the entire truth; it appeared, however, that my best friend did not want me involved with Jericho at all. I made a mental note to call Kurt later this evening as I re-entered Shane's office.
A quick glance around revealed that my brother had not returned, so I plopped down in front of the television to watch the remainder of the show. Watching a match between Rico and Maven, I couldn't help but be a little jealous of the electricity that came with the Raw atmosphere; try as I might, I hadn't been able to capture that same spark on my own show since I took the general manager position. *At least I lucked out in the talent department.*
Jericho's theme music brought me from my thoughts, and I refocused my attention to the screen, ready for his Highlight Reel. The instant he appeared on camera, still clad in those amazingly snug tights, I couldn't help but daydream about our encounter earlier, substituting some X-rated scenarios. When my brother was called out to the ring, I flung my imagination to the side and stared intently at the television. And something in Jericho's hand I hadn't noticed before: a blue file folder. Dread crept up my spine to leave a sour taste in my mouth. I turned up the volume on the television, afraid of what I was going to hear.
"Shane McMahon, as your devoted employee I must alert your attention to a serious matter. Something you may not even be aware of." Jericho paused, waving the folder in my brother's face. "Something that involves your sister and Raw consultant, Stephanie McMahon…"
The chunks rose in my throat, and I almost retched. *It has to be about the lymphedema.* Cursing loudly, I fled the room to make my way towards the ring, intent on shutting Jericho's mouth personally. However, as I skidded around a corner, I nearly ran over a familiar person.
"Watch where you're going," Hunter sneered, returning his attention to the monitors that lined the hallway.
My father used to tell me that I inherited his ability to turn any negative into my personal gain. While I loathed comparing myself to him these days, it was this inherited gene that gave me quite the idea while I stared at my ex-husband. Plastering a pathetic look on my face, I tugged at his hand, garnering his attention. "Hunter?"
He looked at me with a scowl, ripping his hand away. "What now? Aren't you supposed to be interrupting this?" He gestured to the screen, where Jericho was still taunting Shane with the blue folder.
I shuddered internally, then returned to my prey. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I made sure to keep a sad face on while he gazed at me in annoyance. "Please, Hunter, you know that Jericho is out to get me. Help me out, your former wife, for old times' sake?" I managed to say, wanting to vomit as I begged him for help.
His eyes narrowed, and I knew I had his attention. "What's in it for me?" he asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.
I pointed to my sling. "How about making up for this? Your phone calls and flowers didn't mean shit, but this could get me off your case." Within seconds, Hunter was at my side and walking towards the curtain with a purpose: to get that folder.
As his music played, he grabbed my good hand and dragged me towards the stage. "I'll take care of this," he ordered.
Dutifully following my ex-husband down the ramp and towards the ring, I couldn't help but smirk a bit at how easy it still was to manipulate Hunter. After climbing the stairs, he let go of my hand to open the ropes wider and allow me to enter the ring. Surprised, I gave him a grateful smile and stepped into the ring, glancing in Shane's direction. His mouth was open in pure amazement, and I could only imagine what was running through his mind.
Jericho, however, was never tongue-tied. "What in the hell is this?" he demanded loudly, staring intently at me. Instead of answering him, I caught Hunter's eyes, silently pleading with him once more to handle this. He nodded slowly, then marched up to Jericho, tearing the microphone out of his hand.
"I can do whatever I damn well please, Jericho," he bellowed. "This is my show, and you would do well to remember that." Pacing the ring a bit, Hunter stopped before me, then grabbed my arm and dragged me closer to my brother and Jericho. Annoyed, I tried to pull out of his grip, but stopped struggling when Hunter sent a glare in my direction. "I came out here because Stephanie asked me to shut you up, and frankly, that's something everyone else here can benefit from."
I did my best to stare down Jericho, meeting his intense blue eyes with a bitchy glare, but my good arm was starting to ache under Hunter's strong grip. Angry that he was hurting me, I turned my glare to my ex-husband. Oblivious to my irritation, he turned his attention to my brother. "Shane, I can guarantee you that whatever is in that folder is bullshit. Everyone knows that Jericho hated Steve Austin because Austin refused to kiss his egotistical ass…"
"Like you should talk!" Jericho roared.
"Therefore, when you came in as the new co-general manager, Jericho saw his chance," Hunter continued, ignoring Jericho's statement. "Without Bischoff, Jericho needed a GM on his side. And how would he gain your trust? Your consultant here doesn't have the cleanest of records; who would doubt Jericho if he started saying that Stephanie was using you in order to get control of both shows?"
*This is Hunter's idea of helping me?!* Furious, I kicked Hunter as hard as I could in the shin, causing him to yelp out in pain and drop his hold on my arm. Taking the mic from his hand, I walked up to Jericho and ripped the folder out of his hand, clutching it to my chest with my wounded left arm. Sighing with relief, I turned to Shane to begin damage control. "What my dear ex-husband was trying to say is that Jericho is manipulating you in order to get on your good side." Stepping in front of my brother, whose eyes were narrowed with suspicion, I gave him my best smile. "You asked me to come here tonight and support you, Shane. That's why I am here. Don't let this propaganda interrupt your plans for Raw."
Shane barely nodded, and I knew that he believed me. Relieved at dodging that bullet, I handing him the mic and decided to exit the ring. A hand on my shoulder, however, stopped me in my tracks.
"What the hell is your problem?" Hunter shouted, spinning me around with enough force that I had to brace myself against his chest. "I come out here and you kick me?"
"You were squeezing the shit out of my arm!" I yelled back, showing him the red finger marks that adorned my right arm.
Hunter smacked my arm out of his face, and I suddenly realized that he had no reason to hold back his rage. We weren't married, we were in a wrestling ring, and I had provoked him with a kick to his bum leg. Afraid that he was going to strike me, I backed up slowly until my back ran into the ropes.
"My my my, aren't we lucky tonight ladies and gentlemen, to witness another public fight between the champ and his former slut of a wife." Jericho had found another microphone, and now took pleasure in taunting us across the ring. I closed my eyes as I heard his term for me, willing myself not to let his words affect me. "Tell me, do they still call it a domestic dispute when you are no longer married?"
Opening my eyes, I gave Jericho the dirtiest look I could muster before I felt the prickle of tears threatening to fall. What was worse, I had no motivation to grab the mic back from my brother and let him have it. My heart ached; was it not twenty minutes ago that we were nearly kissing in the back hallway? Chastising myself for becoming emotionally attached to such a devious person, I turned and exited the ring, wanting to curl up on Shane's couch and hide for the rest of the show. Jericho continued to talk as I walked up the ramp, but I turned out his words, afraid that any other jabs would cause the ever-present tears to fall. *This damn cancer made me so weak,* I thought vehemently as I pushed aside the curtain and entered the backstage area.
Halfway back to Shane's office, I heard footsteps behind me, then a hand on my shoulder. Shrugging off the person's touch, I looked over my shoulder and saw none other than Hunter standing behind me, an almost sheepish look on his face. Rolling my eyes, I continued on my way.
"Steph, wait," Hunter pleaded, falling into step beside me.
"I won't wait," I replied, looking over at him as I walked. "You did your job and shut Jericho's mouth. Your sins have been absolved; I won't ask you for any other favors." Reaching Shane's office, I opened the door, then met my ex-husband's eyes once more. "You'd better go, before we have another embarrassing public episode." Not waiting for a response, I entered the office, locking the door behind me.
Letting out a breath, I tried to calm myself down as I placed the now-infamous blue folder on the small table beside the couch. Then, seeing Jericho and Shane still in the ring arguing, I switched off the blaring television. The silence in the room lasted only a second, however, as my cell phone chose that moment to ring. With a sigh, I dug through my purse on Shane's desk, retrieved the object, and smiled at the name on the display. "Hello Kurt," I answered.
"Stephanie! How could you?" Kurt shouted on the other end.
"How could I do what?" I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood and having a pretty good idea of what he was angry about.
"Hunter Hearst Helmsley, that's what!"
"I haven't done him or anyone else since the divorce," I joked. There was a pause, and judging by the lack of Kurt's breathing on the other end I assumed he was staring at the phone in disbelief. "Kurt! I'm kidding! Are you still there?" I yelled.
The breathing returned, along with a groan. "That wasn't funny, Steph," Kurt scolded. "But you better tell me the truth immediately before I get on a plane to Baton Rouge."
"Alright alright," I conceded, sitting on the edge of the desk. "I ran into Hunter when I was on my way to get that folder…" I trailed off, eyeing said blue item on the table beside me, and became instantly curious. "I wonder what's in it, actually… hold on a sec Kurt," I thought out loud as I placed the folder on Shane's desk and lifted one end.
Inside, I was surprised to see a single sheet of paper, a print out from the WebMD website. I frowned as I spotted the word lymphedema at the top, and figured it to be an online definition of the disease. My eyes were attracted to a large bracket and star near the bottom of the page, and I skipped down to read through a list of potential causes, one of them being breast cancer. "Oh shit!"
"What's wrong?"
I nearly dropped my cell phone from its cradle between my shoulder and ear at the sound of Kurt's voice. Placing the print out back in the folder, I gripped the phone tightly. "Jericho is on to me, Kurt. The folder has a website that lists the potential causes of lymphedema…"
"And one of them is breast cancer," Kurt finished softly.
"The third listing," I affirmed. "There's no way he'll believe it's genetic; I would have displayed symptoms before. It's only a matter of time before he, and everyone else for that matter, finds out the truth." *And after all this work to keep it a secret* I added mentally. Needing to sit down, I collapsed on the leather couch, wishing that the cool leather would absorb me and I could hide from everyone. "Kurt, what am I going to do," I whined.
"You know what you have to do. Jericho plays hardball, and the Stephanie McMahon I used to know would bean him at the plate."
Despite the cheesy analogy so befitting of my best friend, I knew he had a point. "You're right. Let me set something up with him now, and we'll discuss my strategy later."
"Good. Call me back." With that, I dropped my cell on the desk and grabbed a nearby pen. Flipping over Jericho's printout, I scrawled out a request for him to meet me for breakfast at 8 tomorrow at the hotel. Hiding the paper back within the confines of the folder, I strode to the office door and exited.
I tried to pretend that my heart wasn't racing as I walked to Jericho's locker room; I couldn't trust a backstage worker to deliver it myself and not have a peek inside. His door loomed before me before I knew it, and I repressed the urge to slide it under the door and run, opting instead to knock loudly.
The door opened within seconds to reveal the man himself. For his part, he looked mighty surprised to see me on the other side of the door. However, his tongue was never one to be shocked into silence. "Funny, I thought for sure you'd be halfway to the hotel by now."
I frowned at him, and then thrust the folder against his chest. "I believe this belongs to you Mr. Jericho." His eyes widened, and I realized that he wasn't expecting to see his 'bargaining tool' intact. "Since it appears that your integrity is nonexistent when it comes to withholding secrets, I have decided to give you whatever it is you want." I flushed at the potential meaning of my words, and decided that his close proximity was affecting me in the worst way. "It would be to your benefit to come to the meeting tomorrow."
I paused for a moment, waiting for him to say something. Anything. But all he did was give me a saucy grin and shut his locker room door in my face. I gaped at the steel door as my temper rose, and with a growl I stomped back to Shane's office. *That's it, Jericho. I spent my entire marriage playing Hunter's games, I have no patience left to play yours.*
END CHAPTER SEVEN
Author's Notes: Sorry about the late update, between the holidays and starting my last semester of college, I have had barely a moment to relax. I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me and the encouragement I have received thus far (especially that persistent nascar-girl, whose awesome messages gave me enough guilt to find time and type out this chapter) :)
I have to admit, when I started this story I only expected to have ten or so chapters, but now I see that there will be many more than that. I am trying to keep my original goal of writing a fanfic with an underlying serious issue, but the last thing I want is an overabundance of melodrama. So I ask you, dear readers, to set me straight if I ever fall into that trap (although you'll have to allow me a little bit of sap, we are talking about a breast cancer survivor here).
Before I go, I'd like to do something I haven't done for awhile – promote a deserving author here on FF.Net. While I am not a big fan of Mary Sues in general, her extraordinary writing has me hooked on her original character, Samia. The author is Disco Inferno1 and her stories include 'Where Loyalty Lies' and 'Loyalty of Friendship'. Go read them – you won't regret it. Take care all, and hopefully I'll update soon.